Rose always made cookies on Monday and while they were still warm she took a dozen over to Father Luke. She had made snickerdoodles today because those were his favorite and he had seemed a little out of sorts during the sermon the day before. She hoped they would cheer him up.
But when she entered the parish, it looked like cookies we're not going to be enough. The Rector looked like he hadn't slept in several days, his eyes bloodshot and his hair mussed.
"I brought you cookies, Father Luke," Rose said. "Are you all right?"
"Is anyone all right? What is right and wrong? What is good and evil?" The clergyman mumbled.
"You look tired, Father Luke," Rose said sympathetically. "You should rest."
"There is no rest," he said. "No rest for the wicked."
"You're not wicked Father Luke!" Rose objected. "You're the pastor of our church! You're the best man in the whole town!"
Rose's church was very important to her. Her mother had died when she was very young and her father had died earlier that year after a long illness. If it wasn't for the church, she would have lost all connection, all sense of family.
Even though he was only a few years older than her, Father Luke had become like her actual father. More reliable than her actual father had ever had been, really.
But now the Rector was clearly unwell. She had supported her own father in his illness until the end. She would make herself available for Father Luke.
"All men are fallen and wicked," the clergyman said, his eyes widening. "And women! Women started it! Eve, biting that apple, the juice dripping down on her naked body as she danced before the serpent!"
Rose blushed furiously. She had never heard it put that way.
"I think you might be sick Father Luke," she said, a gentle hand on his arm. "You should go to bed."
"Yes... Bed... tired..." the Rector said. "But I have more to learn. So much more to learn. No, no rest. I have to understand."
The clergyman turned back towards his desk. It was only then that Rose noticed the huge, ancient book sitting open there. Was that what had been keeping Father Luke up at night?
"You're not thinking straight, Father Luke," Rose insisted. "Let's get you to bed. You'll understand things better after a good night's sleep."
She took the clergyman by the arm and insisted, steering him out of his office and towards the private living space in the back of the church. He looked back at the book on his desk reluctantly but he gave in to her gentle pressure.
"I'll come and check on you first thing in the morning, Father," she promised. "If you're still feeling like this, I'll drive you to the doctor myself. This Parish needs you to be healthy. I need you to be healthy."
"Oh sweet Sister Rose! Sweet, innocent Rose. So unaware of the evil in the world," He mumbled.
"There's good in the world too, Father," she reminded him. "You'll see that after some sleep."
She left him there at the threshold of his private living quarters after extracting a promise that he would get some sleep and call her if he needed to go to the doctor before she returned in the morning.
***
As promised, Rose was there again Tuesday morning. And the Rector appeared to be feeling much, much better. He smiled hugely as he opened the door for her.
"Oh good! You came! I was worried you wouldn't," he said.
Upon closer look, his eyes were still very bloodshot. But his energy level was promising.
"Are you feeling better, Father Luke?" She asked.
"Much better, little Rose!" He exclaimed. "So much better! I understand so much more now! And now you're here, so I have someone to share my knowledge with! The perfect someone!"
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said.
"You don't need to know!" He said. "I know! You are the empty vessel I can fill!"
"I...i don't know, Father..." she said again, very confused about what the Rector was proposing.
"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Come to the chapel at once!"
Rose bit her lower lip and complied, terribly unsure of herself.
The chapel smelled...odd. And all the blinds were drawn, with just a few candles providing light.
"It's very dark, Father Luke," she observed, hoping he would open the blinds or turn on the light.
"Yes, it is," he agreed. "So much darker than you know. Kneel, Sister Rose. It is time for communion."
"But Father Luke, it's Tuesday," she pointed out. "And I haven't confessed."
"Communion first," the Rector insisted, "confession later. Kneel, Sister Rose. You must kneel."
There was something powerful in his voice, compelling. For all of her misgivings, Rose felt herself go weak in the knees and the next thing she knew she was in a position of supplication.
And then the Rector was pressing a cup into her hands. It wasn't the normal communion cup. It was made of carved wood. Rose knew the Rector liked to whittle in his spare time. Had he made it himself? She didn't have a chance to ask.
"Drink," the Rector commanded. "Drink and take it in!"
And then he continued in something that might have been Latin, deep and guttural. Rose didn't understand the words but she understood the mandate. She had to drink.
She drank and the wine burned down her throat and made her nostrils flare. It was definitely not the wine he usually gave her on a Sunday morning with the rest of the congregation.
She gasped and a warmth spread throughout her body. Father Luke took the cup and filled it again. He handed it to her and once again told her to drink.
"No, Father Luke," Rose said. "It's not supposed to be like this."
He continued to insist in the language that probably wasn't really Latin. Rose tried to find a suitable counter argument but this was all so very confusing. She took the cup and drank again. And after the second time, refusing the third time seemed pointless. She was a good Christian girl. She should do what the priest told her to do.
"Bless me, Father.." She begged as he refilled the cup.
The church was spinning slowly around her when the clergyman took the cup from her at last. Nothing made any sense, but all resistance had been washed away.
"Take the Host, Sister Rose," the Rector now instructed. "Open your mouth and take it in."
She wasn't resisting, but she was so confused and her brain was moving so slowly that before she could figure out what he was asking, he was forcibly opening her mouth with his strong hands, invading it with thumb and finger, shaping her mouth into an O and tapping at her tongue until the tip emerged. He placed a white wafer on her pink tongue and it fizzed oddly. He roughly closed her mouth and pinched her nose. She swallowed. Something crackled in her head.
"It's in you, Sister Rose," Father Luke exulted. "The Devil is in you."
"The Devil?" She asked, and there was a burning between her legs.
"The Devil is in you, woman" the Rector said as he shed his robes. "The Devil is in every woman! Eve was beguiled by The Serpent! She let The Serpent into her garden! She ate the forbidden fruit! Such a wicked, wicked harlot, she and all her daughters! The Woman is Sin! The Woman is Temptation! The Woman is The Serpent's Slave!"
"The Serpent's Slave..." Rose said, seeing Father Luke's rampant member for the first time. It was so beautiful!
"Let The Devil in, Rose," he commanded, again manhandling her mouth. "Let the Serpent in and worship!"
And then he was inserting his hard cock between her lips and on to her tongue, just like dozens of communion wafers before it. She didn't resist. She welcomed it. She worshiped it. The Devil was in her. She was The Serpent's Slave!
Father Luke's cock squirmed and throbbed in her mouth. Something bigger squirmed and throbbed deeper inside of her.
He laid his hands upon her head, his fingers entwined in her dark curls as his member slid between her lips. All she thought was 'Let it In! Let it in!" using what will she had left to suppress her gag reflex as he pushed down her throat. She needed it in her!
The Rector called put into the darkness of the chapel in not-latin and exploded inside of Rose. She swallowed desperately, decidedly, devotedly. Her body tingled. Her brain burned.
The glow it gave off was so pretty before it went dark.
***
Rose was naked when she came to on the chapel floor. Her initial instinct was to cover herself, and a hand and arm went to crotch and chest instinctively as she looked for her clothes, but not finding them, she slowly dropped her arm and removed her hand.
If she was naked, wasn't it likely Father Luke had left her that way? And if he wanted her exposed, who was she to cover up?
She stood, letting her hands dangle unconcealing at her side, her nipples hardening in the cool air of the empty chapel.
A single step confirmed she was still very much under the influence of The Rector's new and improved communion wine. It would be a challenge, but she needed to find her pastor. She was a lost sheep. She knew nothing.
She was an empty vessel.
She gingerly stepped forward, wishing the room would slow its spin at least long enough for her to find the Rector.
The room did not comply to her wish, but she managed to find the Rector anyway, back in his office, pouring over the big, ancient book and muttering in the language he had used before.
"F..father Luke?" She asked from the doorway and his head shot up, eyes flashing, then he grinned hugely, seeing it was her. Rose felt the urge to cover her nakedness, but also the urge to display herself, lifting her chest in invitation. Conflicted, she waited.
"Rosie-fingered dawn brightens the world," the clergyman says. "Come in, girl! Come in!"
"I...I couldn't find my clothes," she explained.
"You don't need them in here," he said dismissively. "I'll get you better clothes when you need them."
"...thank you," she said as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle and carved wooden chalice.
"You must be thirsty," he said, pouring the dark red liquid. "Drink your wine."
"I'm,,, I'm still a little drunk from before," she confessed.
"Exactly!" He said. "Not nearly enough. Drink up."
She obeyed. It still burned as it went down her throat, but now it brought memories of Father Luke down her throat as well and she trembled as she swallowed.
She blinked the tears the wine and memory brought forth. In the bright light of the office, Rose now saw what the grail was carved with. Naked women being ravaged by demonic creatures. That seemed...inevitable.
"Father Luke?" She asked, her voice wavering. "What...what we did in the chapel... Was that wrong?"
"Was it wrong?" He asked, an incredulous smirk replacing the welcoming smile. "Whatever does that mean? That you can even ask shows you need another demonstration,"
He stood and stole towards her as her heart became a frightened bird. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close, grabbed the back of her head with his other hand and kissed her roughly.
She melted. She would do anything he asked. Why had she even questioned?
